


Quite a Handful

by hereforthewomen



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, F/M, In which Henry is the epitome of 'my wife is a bitch and I like her SO MUCH', Mary is the best, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Powered by my florence and the machine playlist, but also the worst, it's a vibe, specifically 'moderation' and 'no light no light'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29140851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereforthewomen/pseuds/hereforthewomen
Summary: Two missing scenes from series six episode eight.Henry has convinced Mary to marry him, but there's one mystery left for him to solve - what's happened to Edith?
Relationships: Mary Crawley/Henry Talbot, Tom Branson & Mary Crawley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Quite a Handful

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my latest rewatch, this came into my head fully formed! 
> 
> Mary is possibly my favourite character in anything, but it's hard to deny she can be spiteful in the extreme. 
> 
> I've often wondered what Henry thought of what she did to Edith, so here's my interpretation.

Henry sits in the dining room after dinner, nursing a glass of Lord Grantham’s excellent Scotch, still simply luxuriating in the fact that Mary has, finally, admitted that she loves him just as much as he loves her. Or at the very least, almost as much, for he finds it hard to imagine a person feeling as much love for someone as he does for her.

She isn’t the kind of person he’d imagined falling in love with, in those long-ago days at university when he’d sit in the library pondering his future. She’s beautiful, of course, but he’d imagined someone softer somehow, someone nice and mild like his mother.

Mary could be described as many things, many of them wonderful, but even he would not call her ‘nice’. She’s brilliant, fierce in every sense of the word, and more than a little contrary, but despite this, he’s come to realise that she’s the woman he’s been searching for his whole life. He knows that life is unlikely to ever be smooth sailing, they’re both far too passionate and strong-willed for that, but he simply can’t wait to get started.

As he reaches this point in his thoughts, Tom re-enters the room, pouring himself a drink and sitting down beside him. Henry smiles at the sight of the man he will soon be able to call his brother in law, knowing full well that he has been his greatest champion.

“Do you know, after the last time I was here I thought I may never step foot in this house again” Henry says, well aware that the relief he feels at being wrong must be almost tangible.

Tom snorts and rolls his eyes “For a while there I thought the same, it was plain as day that Mary loved you, but she’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, Sybil included. I was about ready to lock you both in a room together until she got over herself.”

“I’m very glad it did not come to that, but I appreciate the thought,” Henry says, chuckling a little to himself at the mental picture this conjures up of an indignant imprisoned Mary.

“It’s a risky business trying to win the hand of a Crawley woman, as we both know, there were times where I thought Sybil would never come around.”

“But she did,” Henry says, thinking of the sister Mary clearly loved but he never had the chance to meet.

“She did. And we were very happy. I wouldn’t trade that for the world. I believe the same will be true for you and Mary.”

“I wish I’d met her,” says Henry honestly, “she sounds like she was quite something”

“So she was” Tom replies, his eyes verging on misty “and she’d approve of you I think, she loved Mary but she also understood her, the way she needed someone strong, someone like Matthew, and now like you. She’s quite the handful you know”

“So I’ve been told”

At this, Tom cocks his head to one side.

“By who?”

“Edith”, Henry says, thinking of Mary’s younger sister, who has been conspicuous by her absence since he arrived.

At this, Tom’s face shows a flicker of pain.

“She’d know, well enough.”

Now, Henry, who had already been very curious about the noticeable absence of the middle Crawley daughter, finds himself unable to keep quiet on the subject any longer.

“Tom, not to pry, but where is Edith? When I was last here it seemed as if she was on the brink of bliss as a Marchioness, but now she’s gone, and no one will mention her, or most of all Bertie. What happened?”

Tom considers him for a minute, before asking, in a tone that sounds almost deliberately casual, “Mary hasn’t told you then?”

“No, she has not. Should she have?”

“I think this is a story you should hear from her, yes. I won’t give her away, but I will tell you that she was terribly unhappy after you left, otherwise I don’t think she would have done what she did. I’m also positive she deeply regrets it. I said some harsh things to her.”

At this speech, Henry is even more concerned than before.

“And you’re telling me this because?”

“I want you to understand the place she was coming from, to not judge her too harshly.”

“You have my word that there’s nothing she could have done that would diminish my love for her. She’s it for me, I can’t imagine there ever being anyone else.”

At this, despite the serious topic of conversation, Tom smiles. “It was the same way with me, and I’m glad to hear it. Mary is not perfect, but I love her as a sister, and I think you’re right for her.”

“Thank you, Tom. That being said, I think we should go through, I sense that there’s something my fiancée and I need to discuss.”

Tom nods in agreement, and they both empty their glasses before moving through into the drawing-room, where Henry’s eyes immediately seek out Mary’s from across the room. He walks over to her quickly and draws her aside from the conversation she’d been having with her aunt and leans down to whisper in her ear

“I’m going outside for some air, care to join me?”

She looks at him quizzically, but gives him a quick nod of affirmation, making her excuses to Rosamund before following him from the room.

They pause briefly in the entrance hall while Mary fetches a beautiful evening coat, then proceed out onto the drive, beginning to walk down the pristine lawn towards the lake. For a while they simply walk in silence, content in each other’s company, but then Henry works up the resolve to ask the question swirling around his mind.

“Mary, where’s Edith?”

Whatever his fiancée had been expecting, this is clearly not it, because her eyes immediately snap up to meet his. On her face, usually perfectly controlled, he sees signs both of shock, and then guilt.

“What has Tom been saying?” she asks, her tone sharp.

‘He said only that it was your story to tell” Henry answers, careful to leave out Tom’s plea for clemency, guessing that this would not be received well.

Mary nods. “I see.” She pauses for a moment before adding carefully, ‘she’s in London”.

Henry gives her a moment to see if she’s going to expand of her own violation, before saying in a deep voice that contains a hint of a growl “Mary….”

Hearing his tone, Mary clearly recognises that he isn’t going to take an evasive answer, but she seems to be struggling to tell him whatever it is that has happened.

“Mary, dearest, please know that whatever it is you’re trying to tell me, it won’t stop me loving you. Short of you telling me that you’ve murdered your sister, I don’t think anything could. Even then, it would be a near thing. You’re it for me.”

She gives him a small smile before saying “I quite think Edith might prefer that to what I actually did.” Her tone is bitter, so unlike her usual voice that Henry knows what is coming next won’t make pleasant listening.

“If you must know, then I’ll tell you. I told Bertie about Marigold and he broke it off with Edith. As Tom put it I wrecked my own sister’s life”. To anyone who knows her less well, Mary would seem to be entirely unbothered by this. However, knowing her as he does, Henry can see that this cost her a great deal to admit, so much so that she’s struggling to keep her composure.

However, he can’t keep himself from asking his next question “Why?”

At this, Mary turns away, wringing her hands together and looking out over the dark lake beside them.

“Tom and Granny tell me it was because I was unhappy. I couldn’t admit to myself that I loved you, and I couldn’t bear to see Edith settled while you and I were apart”.

“Were they right?”

Mary sighs, and flings her hands wide “I don’t know! With Edith I just say things, and then I can’t take them back. Tom called me a bully, and where Edith is concerned he might be right! I’m not a nice person, despite what Matthew and Sybil used to say.”

Here Henry finds himself on surer ground “Oh, I don’t think you’re a nice person”.

At this, Mary is momentarily speechless “No? Well then.”

“No, I don’t think you nice. You’re certainly not nice to Edith.”

“This, about the woman you profess to love”

“Yes, I love you. I freely admit it. But I see your flaws as I know you see mine. I love you not in spite of them but because of them, the way you don't usually let them rule you. You care so deeply about your family, about being loyal to those who depend on you, you have a tremendous capacity for compassion when you choose to use it.”

“Not always,” Mary says, her eyes downcast and her tone flat.

“No, not always. And you’ve clearly hurt Edith deeply”

Mary nods in assent, guilt and shame playing over her beautiful features.

“I regret it, I’m sorry now and I’m ready to say so.” Here, she sighs “but why on earth should she forgive me.”

Internally, Henry agrees, why indeed. But he knows that sharing this won’t help her.

“Invite her to the wedding, extend an olive branch. She may yet come around”.

Mary nods before raising her eyes to meet his own.

“Just how much did Tom say to you pray tell? I imagined you’d be furious; you Edith and Bertie were as thick as thieves.”

“Oh, he told me enough, and that you’d already heard all about it from him.”

“Yes, he tore me into strips, I’ve never seen him so angry. I didn’t feel like I deserved it then, I do now.”

“And that’s what matters. I know you’ll make it right with Edith, and then we get to make each other happy for the rest of our lives.”

At this, Mary gives him a look so full of love that he swears his heart might burst, before leaning over to kiss him, echoing his words to her earlier that day.

‘Thank god for you Henry, thank god for you.”


End file.
